Cloudy with a Chance of Gremlins
by Qille
Summary: When the Gremlins invade Swallow Falls, it's up to Flint, Sam, and, of course, Gizmo to stop them. What could possibly go wrong? Written at the request of NR.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Here we go! This one's for you, NR!_

* * *

><p><strong>Cloudy with a Chance of Gremlins<strong>

Tim Lockwood walked down a dark street deep in the heart of Chinatown. He was following a mysterious child who claimed to know where he could find a good present for his son, Flint.

"How far did you say it was?" asked Tim nervously.

"Not that far," said the child.

They reached the end of the street and the child took a turn, going down a small flight of stairs.

"Hey, wait a minute!" exclaimed Tim, stopping at the top step.

"What's the problem?" asked the child.

"This is your grandfather's store?"

"Yeah, come on," said the child, gesturing for Tim to follow.

Tim shook his head and hesitantly made his way down the stairs. "No wonder you gotta drag people in off the street," he muttered.

Tim made it to the bottom of the stairs and turned, following the cryptic child. He entered the small building through a doorway and was shocked at what he saw.

The building was filled with dozens of trinkets and items. The only light was provided by candles. At a desk in the back of the room sat an old Chinese man with a long beard, smoking a two foot long pipe. The craziest thing about this man were his eyes. His left eye was brown while his right eye was icy blue! Tim had never seen anything like it before.

"Go ahead, mister, look around," said the child. "See if there's something you like."

Tim slowly walked around, taking it all in. A couple times, he had to duck to avoid getting beaned by something hanging from the ceiling. He eventually came across a couple little golden statues.

"Are these things real?" he asked, pointing to them.

"I told you, everything's real," said the child.

Tim slowly came up to the desk. "Well, you've got some... _interesting_ artifacts here, but there's one thing you don't have."

"And what's that?" asked the child.

"Well, let me show you. I've got it right here." Tim reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal device with a single black button and a small, clear sphere on top of it. "My son's an inventor. He made this. It's called the Lockwood Lighter. It's the invention of the century! It eliminates the need to carry around regular lighters or matches when you travel or go camping.

"Now imagine, for the sake of argument, that you were going camping with your family. It's getting dark and you want to start a fire, but then it starts raining! All your matches get soaked. Well, with the Lockwood Lighter, that's not a problem because it's waterproof. What you do is you-" A small chirping sound came from behind Tim. He quickly turned around, but saw nothing.

"Uh, what you do," he continued, "is you press this little black button, and... uh..." Tim turned and blew out the candle nearest him. "What you do is you aim at what you want to light, press this button, and..." Tim aimed the sphere at the candle wick and pressed the button. Inside the sphere, arcs of electricity jumped around, and a single large spark jumped across the gap between the sphere and the candle wick. A small flame sparked on the candle.

"There we go!" Tim reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small card. "This is my son's card. I could get you dozens of these if you like." As the man slowly took the card from Tim, the same chirping noise sounded and Tim whipped around again. After a minute, he shrugged it off and turned back around. "What do you think?"

The chirping started up again, and Tim turned fully around, craning his neck to try and see where the sound was coming from. "Where is that coming from?"

Tim slowly made his way into a dark corner in the shop. There was what looked to be a box, covered in a cloth. Tim slowly bent down and pulled the cloth back. Beneath the cloth was a box. He opened the lid. Inside he saw a small furry creature with the biggest ears he had ever seen! The creature continued making the chirping noises.

Tim smiled a bit. It _was_ really cute. "W-what is that?"

"Mogwai," said the kid, who had followed Tim over into the corner.

The Mogwai started making a strange, soothing noise that sounded like humming.

"What's he doing?" asked Tim, mesmerized.

"Singing," said the child. "He does that sometimes."

Tim's smile grew even wider and he gently closed the lid of the box. He stood up, dusted himself off, and walked back to the Chinese man sitting at the desk.

"I've got to have him. He's incredible," said Tim. "Tell you what I'll do: I'll give you 100 dollars for him." Beside Tim, the child's eyes widened.

"No," said the man in a blunt voice.

"Look, I've got to have him. It's a present for my son for Christmas. It's exactly what I've been looking for, and I've been _everywhere_! I'll give you 200 dollars. That's 200 dollars!" exclaimed Tim.

"I'm sorry," said the man. "Mogwai not for sale." The man then began to walk away into a different part of the store.

Tim turned to the shocked child still standing by his side. "I thought you said everything in your grandfather's store was for sale."

The child shrugged and walked after his grandfather. "Grandfather!" he exclaimed.

"With Mogwai comes much responsibility. I cannot sell him at any price!" said the man, never turning around.

The child stopped and stared after his grandfather, his face a mask of disbelief. He then turned around to face Tim. "Just wait outside, I'll be right out." Tim held up the 200 dollars, and the child said, "Just go..."

Tim shrugged and made his way out of the store. He stood outside the door waiting for about 10 minutes before the child emerged.

"Okay, mister, here it is," he said, holding the box. He handed the box to Tim.

"Great," said Tim. "What about your grandfather?"

"Forget what he said; he's crazy! And we need the money. Now come on, do you want it or not?"

"I want it," said Tim, handing over the promised 200 dollars. He started to leave, but the child stopped him.

"Look, mister. There are three rules you've got to follow," he said.

"Yeah, what kind of rules?" asked Tim.

"Keep him out of the light. He _hates_ bright light. Especially sunlight. It'll kill him. And keep him away from water. Don't get him wet. But the most important rule, the one you can never forget: no matter how much he cries or how much he begs, never _never_ feed him after midnight. You got it?"

"Sure, kid, whatever you say," said Tim. "Thanks. And have a Merry Christmas."

* * *

><p>Snow covered the small island of Swallow Falls. Children were running and playing and a group of five teenagers were having a snowball fight to the death. People were picking up their Christmas trees at the tree farm owned by the McHale family.<p>

Everyone seemed to be having fun...

… except for a young man in a lab coat trying to start his banged-up winged car.

"C'mon," muttered Flint, petting the dashboard as if he were trying to encourage his now flightless car to start working. He didn't fly to work, but the Flying Car was still supposed to serve as a means of ground transportation! And now it didn't even drive!

"Well that sucks," muttered Flint as he jerked the keys from the ignition.

Steve, in the passenger seat, jumped up and down. "No car?"

"We'll see, Steve," said Flint, giving his monkey an affectionate rub on the head.

"Steve!"

Flint got out of the car, stared at it for a moment, and then kicked it as hard as he could.

"OW!" yelped Flint, jumping up and down and holding his foot. Even if he was wearing Spray-On Shoes with snow boots on top of them, that still hurt like crazy.

With a moan, Flint limped around to the front of the car where the engine was. Smoke was coming out from under the hood. He lifted the hood and was immediately choked by the smoke.

"Where's Emma when you need her?" muttered Flint, waving his hand through the smoke, coughing. Flint's sister was in fact out of town, visiting some of her relatives in the States.

Flint heard a vehicle pull up in his neighbor's driveway. He looked over and saw Joe Towne hop out of the snow plow that he always drove around.

"Hey Flint, what's the matter?" he asked. "You need a jump?"

"No thanks," said Flint, standing up. "I'm pretty much already late for work."

"Goddamn foreign cars, they always freeze up on you," said Joe in his usual xenophobic manner. "You don't find American machinery doing that. Our stuff can take anything."

"Well, I built the car," said Flint "Just... not the engine..." He started to walk back around to the driver side door, wanting to grab Steve and get to work, but Joe kept talking.

"See that plow?" he asked, gesturing proudly to his snow plow. "It's 15 years old and hasn't given me a day's trouble. You know why? Kentucky Harvester. It ain't some foreign piece of crap you pick up these days. That's a Kentucky Harvester!"

"Mm hm, yeah, well, if I wanna keep my job, I better go," said Flint, moving back around his car. "He leaned down and looked in the door, where Steve still sat, playing with the mittens on his hands and feet. "C'mon Steve. We're gonna have to take the bike again."

"Steve!" exclaimed Steve, grabbing onto Flint's hand and sitting on his shoulder. Flint stood up with Steve on his shoulder and closed the car door.

"Well, say hello to you wife for me, okay?" Flint said to Joe.

He nodded and Flint ran off towards the shed next to his lab. Joe continued staring at the car for a moment longer. "Goddamn foreign machines."

Meanwhile, Flint opened his shed door and pulled out a rusty old bike that looked ready to fall apart at any minute. Flint hopped on and pedaled for his life. If he got fired from his part-time job as a bank teller, then he was _dead_! He slipped and skidded on the ice all the way down Main Street, narrowly avoiding other cars. It was only when Flint was just half a block away from the Town Hall Bank that he hit a thick patch of ice. Flint's bike skidded sideways right into the side of the curb.

_CRACK!_

The bike completely fell apart, and Flint and Steve tumbled to the cold hard ground! After a minute, Flint sat up and looked at the decimated bike. His eyes fell on one piece of what was once the main body. It had cracked in half in a way that it was long, sharp, and could probably decapitate someone.

"Yikes," muttered Flint.

"Ouch," said Steve, jumping on Flint's shoulder.

Flint stood up and brushed all the snow and ice off of him. He then gathered up all the pieces of what used to be the bike and brought them with him, running the rest of the way.

A few minutes later, Flint burst through the door of the Town Hall Bank. He ran behind his desk and pulled off his overcoat and lab coat, hanging them both on a rack. Underneath his lab coat, he was wearing a formal looking suit and coat.

Looking around to make sure Daniel or Mr. Faris weren't anywhere in sight, Flint shoved all the broken pieces of the bike into his drawer. He pulled Steve off of his shoulder and shoved him in the leg space under his desk. He tied a rope around Steve's waist.

"Stay down there and don't say anything," whispered Flint, making sure Steve's mittens were secure so that he wouldn't untie the rope holding him to the desk.

"Quiet," whispered Steve, smiling and putting a finger to his lips.

"Good," whispered Flint. He quickly finished leashing Steve and stood up, pulling up a chair and putting his name plate out, not even realizing it was upside down. The then pulled a clip-on tie out of his pocket and clipped it to the front of his shirt.

The owner of the desk next to Flint's, Sam Sparks, stood up when she saw Flint. She grabbed a piece of paper off of her desk and quickly went and stood next to Flint, all the while on the lookout for Daniel or Mr. Faris.

"You just made it," she said to Flint.

"Again," Flint muttered.

"Flint, will you sign this petition?" asked Sam as she put the piece of paper on Flint's desk.

"Sure," said Flint. "What's it for?"

"We're trying to have Dorry's Pub declared a landmark. Mayor Shelbourne is trying to take his lease away," said Sam, handing Flint a pen.

"His too?" muttered Flint, signing the paper. Sam's petition must have been going really well, judging by all the signatures on the paper. It made since though; Dorry's Pub was a cozy little bar that everyone older than 18 in Swallow Falls visited.

"Yeah, he says it's a dive; a public nuisance," growled Sam.

"That's where my dad proposed to my mom," said Flint, looking up.

Sam laughed a bit. "That's where everybody's dad proposed to their mom." She glanced down at Flint's signature. "Cross your 't'."

Flint blushed and fixed his grammar error. He looked back up and Sam and handed her the pen, smiling at her.

Sam blushed a bit and looked back down at the paper. "Thanks," she whispered, grabbing the petition and rushing back to her seat.

* * *

><p>Half an hour later, a strange sight came stalking down Main Street: it was Mayor Shelbourne, looking extremely ticked off, holding the head of a large ceramic snowman.<p>

As he walked down the street, a nervous person walking by him said: "Good morning, Mayor Shelbourne!"

"What's so good about it?" growled Mayor Shelbourne.

The person gasped and fled the scene.

Meanwhile in the bank, Flint was helping a customer.

"$40, $60, $80..." he counted out. That was when, from outside, he heard car horns going off. He looked up to see Mayor Shelbourne, carrying the severed head of a ceramic snowman, walking in the middle of the street. Cars screeched to a stop to avoid running him down.

"Uh... $200. Thank you," said Flint, smiling nervously at the person he was helping.

Outside, Mayor Shelbourne made a beeline for the bank door, but he was intercepted by a young woman with two children at her side.

"Mayor Shelbourne?" the lady asked.

"What? What?" snapped the Mayor.

"I-I just wanted to let you know that Tom got another job," said the woman.

"Who?"

"My husband, Tom Harris," she stammered. Mayor Shelbourne tried to step around her, but she stepped in front of him. "A-and I've taken up some sewing on the side."

"Mrs. Harris, what are you trying to tell me?" snapped the mayor.

"I... I'm afraid that neither one of us will be paid for two weeks. Couldn't you get Mr. Faris to just... give us a little more time?"

Mayor Shelbourne narrowed his eyes. "Mrs. Harris, the bank and I have the same purpose in life: to make money. Not to support a lot of..." he glanced at the two children, one of which had started coughing, "... deadbeats!"

The mayor stepped away from the distressed woman and walked to the bank door.

"But Mayor Shelbourne, it's Christmas!" exclaimed the woman.

He stopped with his hand on the door handle. Snarling, he turned back around and stalked towards Mrs. Harris and her children.

"Now you know what to ask Santa for, don't you?" he snarled. With that, he turned and walked through the bank doors, leaving the poor woman and her children in the dust.

Inside, Mayor Shelbourne shoved his way to the front of the line in front of Flint's desk. He slammed the ceramic snowman head onto the desk, and Flint shrank into his chair.

"This is what's left of my imported Bavarian snowman! Your monkey broke it this morning!" screamed Mayor Shelbourne.

"I-I-I... I'm s-sorry," stammered Flint. "J-just tell me how m-much I owe you a-and I'll-"

"I don't want money!" the mayor interrupted. After a dramatic pause, he hissed: "I want your monkey."

Under Flint's desk, Steve's ears perked up and his eyes widened.

Flint's eyes widened and he grew paler. "Steve?" he managed to croak out.

"Give him to me," growled Shelbourne. "I'll take him to a kennel. They'll put him to sleep. They do it for dogs; I'm _sure_ they can do it for monkeys too. It'll be quick and painless, compared to what I could do to him."

Flint, who was now paler than the snowman head sitting on his desk, stammered: "W-what could you do?"

An evil smile slowly spread across Mayor Shelbourne's face. "I'll catch the beast myself. Then he'll get what he deserves: a slow painful death!"

When Steve heard this, he bit down on one of the gloves on his hand and pulled it off. He then took off the glove on his other hand and began untying himself.

Above the desk, Mayor Shelbourne continued talking about Steve's demise. "Maybe I'll put him in my spin dryer on high head."

"That would do it all right," muttered a man standing next to the mayor.

Suddenly, Steve, who had just finished untying himself, exploded from behind the counter. Mayor Shelbourne produced a very high-pitch feminine scream and stumbled backwards.

"STEVE!" shouted the monkey. He lunged at Mayor Shelbourne, knocking the snowman head off the desk where it shattered into a hundred pieces on the ground.

"STEVE, NO!" shouted Flint, jumping over the desk as Steve tackled Mayor Shelbourne to the ground. Steve was now jumping on Shelbourne and tearing at his coat.

Flint lunged forward and grabbed Steve, pulling him off. Mayor Shelbourne continued screaming until Mr. Faris, the owner of the bank, rushed forward.

"Sir, are you all right?" asked Mr. Faris as he helped Mayor Shelbourne stand up. Mr. Faris was really good at faking worry. At that moment, Daniel Faris rushed out and helped Mayor Shelbourne stand up.

"I have a weak heart! I can't stand a shock like that!" shouted Mayor Shelbourne.

"What is that _monkey_ doing in here?" shouted Mr. Faris.

"Lockwood, this is a bank, not a pet store!" exclaimed Daniel.

"Very good, Daniel," said Mr. Faris.

"Steve wouldn't have hurt you, Mayor Shelbourne, honestly!" exclaimed Flint as Steve squirmed in his arms.

"You're just like your father," growled Mayor Shelbourne. "I've listened to his miserable excuses for ten years, the loser!" Flint's jaw dropped, but Mayor Shelbourne wasn't finished yet. "As for you, you mangy cur," he snarled at Steve, "I'll get you... when you least expect it!"

Steve reached for Mayor Shelbourne's face, saying: "Angry!"

The mayor snarled at Steve and then rushed out of the bank, with Mr. Faris following him, apologizing.

Daniel walked by Flint and muttered: "Way to go, klutz."

All Flint could do was wish he was invisible.

* * *

><p>Later that night at Dorry's Tavern, Flint sat at the bar, drawing. However, he wasn't drawing with paper. A small metal square, only an inch long, sat on the bar table. In the center was what looked like a tiny camera lens. Hovering a foot above the device was a holographic piece of paper. In Flint's hand was a thin metal holo pen; a pen that let him draw on holographs.<p>

"What do you think?" Flint asked the man sitting next to him, Mr. Jones, a friend of his mother's.

Mr. Jones looked at the drawing. It was a picture of a dragon with Mayor Shelbourne's face. The dragon was being stabbed through with a sword.

"Hm. The old rat never looked better. It's great," said Mr. Jones.

"Thanks," said Flint. He smiled and went back to adding blood. He was in the mood for blood after Mr. Faris made him leave work early and take Steve (and his shattered bike) home.

Next to him, Mr. Jones said something that made Flint tense up: "Hello, Daniel."

Daniel strutted up behind Flint. "Well, if it isn't Captain Clip-On." Daniel took a seat beside Flint. "Hey, guess who almost applied for unemployment today?"

"I give up," said Flint sarcastically.

"You," said Daniel in a cheery voice. "Buuut, Mr. Faris had second thought. He gets so sentimental about the holidays..."

"Imagine that," muttered Flint, absorbed in his drawing. What he was really wondering was why Daniel called his father Mr. Faris instead of Dad.

"I would have fired you in a second," said Daniel in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Well Merry Christmas to you too," said Flint. He waved his hand downwards through the hologram, and it disappeared. He put the device and pen in his pocket and turned to Mr. Jones. "Excuse me, Mr. Jones." With that, he stood up and left the bar, sitting at a table where he brought the holo-picture back up and continued drawing.

"Hey, Lockwood," said Daniel, following him and sitting across from him. "Look, I'm a junior vice-president at 23. By the time I'm 25, I'm going to have Mr. Faris's job. By the time I'm 30, I'll be a millionaire! Look at you." Flint took a moment to glance up at Daniel. "You're practically supporting your whole family. The world's changing, Lockwood. You gotta change with it. You gotta be tough!"

"Tough? And no one's tougher than you, eh, Dan?" asked Flint.

Daniel leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "Don't call me that. My name's Daniel."

At that moment, a waitress came to their table. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked.

"Give me a vodka martini. Shake, don't stir," said Daniel. However, Flint recognized the voice and looked up to see that their waitress was... Sam!

"You're working here?" he asked.

"Weeknights, so Dorry doesn't have to pay an extra waitress," said Sam.

"That's great," nodded Flint, smiling up at her.

"Yeah, if you like working for nothing," muttered the always optimistic Daniel. He turned back around to face Sam. "Oh, Sam, you haven't seen my new apartment!"

"I haven't seen your old one," deadpanned Sam. With that, she turned and walked away.

All Flint could do was smile, roll his eyes, and hope that Sam told the bartender to spit in Daniel's drink.

* * *

><p>Flint opened his front door and walked inside. He was immediately greeted by Steve jumping in his arms.<p>

"Hey, buddy," said Flint.

"Steve!"

Flint smiled and closed the door. When he did, the blade-like piece of his bike next to the front door fell to the ground. Flint turned around and propped it back up against the wall.

"Flint, is that you?" came a voice from the depths of the house.

"Yeah, Ma, it's me!" Flint called.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Fran called back.

Flint took his jacket off, replacing it with his lab coat. He walked into the kitchen to find his mother making dinner, watching a black-and-white Christmas movie.

"Hey Mom," said Flint.

"Hey sweetie," said Fran, giving Flint a kiss on the cheek.

"Do you need any help?" asked Flint, gesturing to the chopped up vegetables on the counter top.

"Yeah, you could do the eggs," said Fran, gesturing to a strange contraption on the counter top behind her.

"Okay," said Flint, walking over to the contraption. It was one of his inventions that had been acting up lately. What was supposed to happen was that you load it up with eggs, turn it on, and a little plastic chicken head with a sharpened beak would swing down and crack open the eggs. It had been acting up lately, so Flint didn't know how it was going to work this time.

_Please work, please work_, he thought to himself. He turned it on.

_CRACK!_

Egg guts spilled all over the counter.

"Crap," muttered Flint. He tried to turn the machine off, but almost got stabbed in the process.

Fran turned around and saw the mess. She smiled a bit. "You know how machines are; they work so well the first couple of weeks, then..." She shrugged. "Use the sink."

Flint picked up the bowl of egg guts and brought them over to the sink. As he started to crack them and get the shells out, he looked over at Fran. She looked... troubled.

"Mom, is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, it's a sad movie," said Fran, gesturing to the television screen. Flint finished up with the eggs and brought them over to Fran. "So how was your day?" she asked.

"It was fine," lied Flint. After a minute, he asked: "Mom, c'mon, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Well... Mayor Shelbourne called again this afternoon-" Fran was cut off by the sound of the front door opening and the sound of Flint's bike parts falling. Then she and Flint smiled as they realized what that meant. "Let's not talk about it right now. Don't say anything to Dad."

"Fine with me," said Flint as he and Fran walked towards the front door.

Once Tim had set the bike part back where it had been, he turned around and greeted Fran and Flint with a big hug. Steve jumped on his head.

"Steve!"

"Hello to you too Steve," said Tim.

"I'm glad you're back," said Fran, taking Tim's scarf and coat and hanging them up. "How was the trip?"

"It was great," said Tim. He turned to Flint. "That company you were telling me about; they just _might_ be interested in the Lockwood Lighter!"

"Really?" exclaimed Flint, his face brightening with excitement.

"Mm hm," said Tim. He then turned around and picked up something that he had set down when he came in. It looked like a box covered in red wrapping paper with an enormous red bow on the top. He held it up to Flint.

"Thanks, Dad," said Flint, taking the present.

"You're gonna like this," said Tim.

"What is it? A bird cage?" asked Flint, looking at the box. He shook it a bit and whatever was inside made a chirping noise.

"No, don't shake it," said Tim. "We're gonna have to open it now. It won't wait for Christmas."

Steve jumped on Flint's shoulders, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"It's a puppy, isn't it?" guessed Flint. Tim shrugged. "Yeah it is, I can tell."

"It's a new car," joked Tim.

Flint brought the wrapped box over to the couch, where he set it down on the coffee table. Steve hopped on the couch next to him and stared intently at the package.

Tim pulled a chair up and sat across from Flint. As Fran came over, he turned to her. "Honey, would you dim the lights please?"

As Fran turned off a lamp, Flint said: "Dim the lights? Dad, what does it do, glow in the dark?"

"It's important," said Tim. "Just trust me."

Once the room was dim enough, only lit by the light from the fireplace, Fran stood behind the sofa and Steve hopped up on Flint's shoulder.

"Go ahead, open it," said Tim.

Flint quickly tore off the wrapping paper, but he hesitated to open the box. After a minute, though, he undid the latch and _slowly_ opened the lid.

A small furry creature jumped from the depths of the box, only visible for a moment before if fell back in. Flint yelped and flung himself backwards into the sofa. Steve leaped off of his shoulder and lunged for the box, yelling: "WHAAAAT!"

Flint just barely caught him. He turned to Tim. "What is it?"

"It's your new pet," said Tim.

"Steve, be a good boy," said Flint as he set Steve back on the sofa. Flint then looked into the box, a shocked smile plastered on his face.

Slowly, a furry pair of three-fingered hands gripped the edge of the box. And slowly, a large furry head emerged. The creature had big ears, brown eyes, and soft looking brown fur. Well, most of his fur was brown. The right side of it's face was covered in white fur, as was it's belly and hands.

"Dad, this is..." Flint could only think of one word to describe the creature. "... AWESOME!"

"Where did you get this?" Fran asked.

"In some little junk store in Chinatown," said Tim.

"Can I pick him up, Dad?" asked Flint excitedly.

"Sure, go ahead," said Tim. "Just be careful. You've got to be gentle."

Flint slowly reached into the box and gently picked up the little creature. It welcomed the touch and began twittering again. Flint gently cradled the little creature in his arms.

"Oh, I hope he's housebroken," muttered Fran.

Flint rubbed the creature on it's head. "Isn't he cute?" Steve slowly touched the creature's ear and then quickly looked away. Flint looked up at Tim. "Does it have a name, Dad?"

"Yeah, Mogwai," said Tim.

"What?" asked Flint.

"Mogwai." In Flint's arms, the little Mogwai made a chirping sound that sounded like he said 'Mogwai'.

"I don't know, it's some Chinese word," said Tim. "I just call him Gizmo. He seems to like it."

At that moment, Fran stood up and got her camera. She stood in front of the sofa, facing Flint, Steve, and Gizmo. "Okay, Gizmo, look up here a minute," she said.

"Hey," Flint said to Gizmo, "we're gonna get our picture taken. Smile."

"Ready?" asked Fran. "One. Two. Three."

_FLASH!_

Gizmo squealed and jumped out of Flint's arms. He somehow managed to land on Tim's lap in a single bound, which was impressive for his size.

"Bright light! Bright light!" Gizmo squealed, hiding his face in Tim's shirt.

"What?" asked Fran. "What happened?"

"He hates bright light," said Tim, giving Gizmo a reassuring pat on the back to try and calm him down. "There are some things I forgot to tell you, and it's really important. Number one: he hates bright lights. But you gotta keep him out of the sunlight," he said, looking at Flint. "Sunlight will kill him. Number two: keep him away from water. Don't give him any water to drink. And whatever you do, don't give him a bath! And probably the most important thing: don't _ever_ feed him after midnight."

* * *

><p>Flint sat in his room with Steve on his bed and Gizmo on his desk. He had found an old keyboard and was just hitting random notes. After every note, Gizmo would sing a different key.<p>

Just to try something out, Flint hit a whole set of keys on the keyboard. Gizmo shook his head a bit and pressed another key on the board.

"Ooh," muttered Steve.

Flint smiled at Gizmo. That was when his eye caught a Santa hat sitting on the desk next to Gizmo. Flint reached over and picked it up. He then gently placed it on Gizmo's head, over his ears.

Flint picked up a hand-held mirror to show Gizmo how he looked, but the mirror caught some of the light in the room, bouncing it back right in Gizmo's face. Gizmo squealed and fell backwards off the desk, landing in a wastebasket.

"Oops," said Steve.

"Bright light! Bright light!" exclaimed Gizmo, only his feet visible sticking out of the basket.

Flint quickly came around the desk and gently picked Gizmo up. There was a bit of blood on top of the Mogwai's head.

"Oh, you cut yourself," muttered Flint. He carried Gizmo into the bathroom and, after turning out the 'bright lights,' set him down on the counter next to the sink.

"Just sit there, and don't fall off, okay?" said Flint. He reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a roll of bandages. Sitting down, he gently wrapped the bandages around Gizmo's head. "Try not to move so much, okay?" Gizmo just went on chirping.

After the cut on Gizmo's head was all bandaged up, Flint took Gizmo back to his room. He made Gizmo comfortable on his bed, using a ball of red yarn as a pillow for Gizmo. Steve sat next to Gizmo.

"Steve," said Steve.

"Gizmo," chirped Gizmo.

Flint sat on the bed. "Looks like you two are getting along," he yawned.

"Night night," said Steve, curling up in a ball next to the pillow Gizmo was lying on.

"Good night Steve," said Flint. He curled up under his blanket and turned off the lamp. "Good night, Giz. See you in the morning..."

The only response he got from Gizmo was a yawn...

* * *

><p><em>AN: There we go! That was longer than I thought it would be, but I really wanted to end on that note. NR, I'm sorry it took so long to get done, but I hope it was worth the wait. Who wants a Lockwood Lighter? I know I do! You'll see more of Flint's awesome inventions later. =) And if any of y'all want, you can request an invention and I'll try and fit it in. =) The next invention is a Whack-A-Shelbourne game! =D R&R please!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Okay, so I read the original script of Gremlins, and I found out that, in the original, the Gremlins ate the dog and Billy came home to find his mother's head rolling down the stairs... glad they changed it!_

* * *

><p><strong>Cloudy with a Chance of Gremlins<strong>

Flint walked into his kitchen the next morning. There, sitting on the counter top, was another one of his strange inventions that had been acting up lately. The invention was _supposed_ to peel and squeeze an orange and make orange juice, but it hadn't been working at all lately.

He pulled a glass out of the cabinet and walked over to the invention. He picked up one of the oranges that sat next to it and hesitantly dropped it into the top of the machine. There was a whirring sound and Flint set the glass down under the nozzle where the juice was supposed to come out.

A few seconds later, orange juice actually _did_ start to pour out, but then...

Shredded up orange pieces and juice sprayed out of every crack in the machine, soaking everything, including Flint.

Flint was so busy trying to stop to fountain of orange juice that he didn't hear the front door open.

"Hello?" called Brent as he dragged in a Christmas tree. He was also _dressed_ as a Christmas tree... "Mrs. Lockwood?" He continued wrestling the tree inside. "I got a tree!" The head piece of the tree costume he was wearing slipped down over his eyes, obscuring his vision. He flung it off, muttering, "Ah, forget it." He continued dragging the tree inside. "Flint!"

Flint was still in the kitchen, trying to clean up. If his mom saw this mess... he could kiss his lab goodbye...

Brent finally managed to get the tree inside, and he slammed the door closed, trying to trap any heat. Leaving the tree on the ground, he turned and walked into the sticky orange kitchen, where Flint was trying to get orange juice out of his ear.

"Hey Flint," said Brent. "I just brought in your Christmas tree." That was when he got a good look around. "What happened?"

Flint sighed and gestured to the device on the counter top. "Slight problem with the Peeler-Juicer."

"I thought you fixed it," said Brent, staring at the machine.

"I thought so too," said Flint.

"Y'know, you should just buy orange juice in cartons. It's a lot easier," said Brent. At that moment, the Peeler-Juicer started leaking orange mush. "See, it works." Just a second later, juice squirted out of the nozzle, cutting Brent off.

* * *

><p>Gizmo sat on Flint's bed, watching television. Steve sat next to him, also watching. Meanwhile, Flint and Brent came up the stairs. Flint was carrying Brent's Christmas tree suit.<p>

"Can I leave that thing here?" asked Brent, gesturing to the suit.

"Yeah, no problem Brent, I can hide it up here," said Flint, tossing the suit under his cabinet. "What are you gonna tell your dad?"

"I'll just tell him a bunch of bikers stole it from me on my way home." Brent noticed the television was on and he sat down on Flint's bed, not even noticing the Mogwai he was sitting next to. He was immediately distracted by a silver, rectangular looking box with nine holes cut in the top. The object was partly hidden under the blanket, so he flipped the blanket off to get a better look, not even noticing that he flipped the blanket over top of Gizmo.

"What's this thing?" he asked.

"Hit the button on the side of that hammer next to you," said Flint, changing into a clean shirt.

Brent hit the button and small little heads popped out of the holes. The little heads looked just like Mayor Shelbourne's head!

"Whoa, Whack-A-Shelbourne!" exclaimed Brent. He immediately used the hammer to whack Mayor Shelbourne on the head. "Where did you get this?"

"You seem to have forgotten that I'm an inventor," said Flint, pulling his lab coat over his new clean shirt.

Suddenly, Gizmo chirped from under the blankets, and Brent's head snapped around to look at the spot where the blanket was moving. "What's that?"

Flint quickly moved around to the other side of his bed and pulled the blanket off of Gizmo. "This is my new pet! My dad gave him to me," he explained.

"Cool! What's his name?" asked Brent.

"His name's Gizmo. He's a Mogwai," said Flint, giving Gizmo a scratch on the head.

"Hi Gizmo," said Brent, patting the Mogwai on the head. He waved his hand a bit, and Gizmo copied the action. "Cute."

"Watch, Brent," said Flint, picking up Gizmo. "Maybe he'll sing!"

Flint carried Gizmo over to his desk, and Brent came over too. Once Flint set Gizmo down, he started singing in his Mogwai language.

"Whoa..." muttered Brent. "Flint, where can I get one of those?"

"I don't know," said Flint, shrugging. "This is the only one I've ever seen."

"Can I hold him?" asked Brent.

"Sure," said Flint. "I don't see why not. He seems to like you."

Brent reached down to pick Gizmo up, but his elbow bumped the jar currently occupied by Flint's goldfish. Some of the water spilled out on Gizmo.

Flint and Brent quickly set the jar back up before the goldfish could die. "Thanks a lot," growled Flint sarcastically.

The second Gizmo got wet, he collapsed on the desk, convulsing and making a high-pitch noise that sounded like screaming.

"Why is he making that noise?" cried Brent, covering his ears.

_POP!_

Something suddenly shot from Gizmo's back and landed on the desk.

"What is it?" whispered Brent.

It looked like a tiny brown and white fur ball, that was slowly twitching and pulsating.

"I don't know," muttered Flint, his eyes wide with amazement.

The fur ball was slowly getting bigger.

"I-is it alive?" asked Brent, leaning closer.

"I don't know," Flint muttered again, shaking his head.

"Scared!" exclaimed Steve, hiding under Flint's bed.

The fur ball reached the size of a fist, and Flint and Brent stepped back.

_POP! POP! POP! POP!_

Four more fur balls popped out of Gizmo's back and landed next to the larger one.

"Still scared!" muttered Steve, peeking out from under Flint's bed.

Suddenly, the fur balls started _unfolding_! They turned into...

Five new Mogwai!

Flint and Brent slowly walked closer to the table, where the new Mogwai were.

"One, two, three, four, five new ones," Brent counted out. "Now can I have one?"

"I-I don't know, Brent," said Flint, still stunned.

"Hey, look, that one's got a cute little stripe on his head," said Brent, pointing to one of the Mogwai that had a white tuft of hair on top of his head that looked like a mohawk. Brent reached forward to touch the Mogwai, but it snarled and tried to bite him. Brent just barely pulled his finger back in time.

"Isn't that incredible, Brent?" gasped Flint, still mesmerized by the fact that the Mogwai multiply with water.

"Yeah, right," said Brent, going back to playing Whack-A-Shelbourne.

"Don't you think this is... this is incredible!" exclaimed Flint.

"Yeah, it really is cool," said Brent, whacking Shelbourne in the head again. "I'm serious. It's cool."

Back on the desk, Gizmo sighed and shook his head.

"Aw, Gizmo, what's the matter?" asked Flint. He got no answer.

* * *

><p>Tim sat in his shop, grinding up sardines to be used as chum. He looked up when he heard the door open and saw Flint walk in.<p>

"Hey, Dad?" said Flint, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

Tim looked up from his sardine mush. "Yeah, son?"

"There's something I need to tell you."

"Go on..."

"Well there's... there's a problem with the Mogwai."

"What's that?" asked Tim, picking up a towel and wiping the fish slime off of his hands.

"Well... it multiplies with water," said Flint.

Tim looked up at Flint. "What?"

Five minutes later, Flint and Tim walked inside the house to find the five new Mogwai playing a video game, while Gizmo sat on the ground next to Steve, playing a tiny trumpet and holding a Candy Cane.

"Do you see what I mean?" asked Flint.

"I don't believe it!" exclaimed Tim. "All that from water? They got wet?"

"Yeah, plain water," said Flint. "Y'know, it's funny, the new ones aren't like Gizmo. The one with the stripe seems to be the leader..."

The Mogwai with the stripe looked up from the game he was playing. He looked over at Gizmo and Steve and hocked a loogie that landed right between them.

"Ick," said Steve.

Gizmo, startled, dropped his trumpet and Candy Cane and looked down at the offending goo, then back up at Stripe, a look of shock and disgust spread across his face. The other Mogwai laughed and continued on with their game.

* * *

><p>It was late at night. Gizmo, Flint, and Steve were asleep. But the new Mogwai were restless. They quietly climbed out of the box they were supposed to sleep in. Stripe, the leader, called in a group huddle. After a minute, the other four Mogwai started to creep out of the room when...<p>

"Steve?" came the mechanical voice of Flint's monkey.

The four Mogwai quickly turned around and saw Steve, wide awake, staring after them. He didn't see Stripe because he was under the bed. They quickly looked to Stripe, who made a circling motion with his hand. They knew what that meant: time to bounce!

As a mode of speedy transportation, the Mogwai curled up into balls and quickly rolled out of the room. Steve, being the always curious monkey that he is, hopped out of his bed and chased after them.

The Mogwai balls bounced down the stairs and straight towards the front door. The Mogwai in front took an extra bounce at the bottom of the stairs and bounced high enough to reach the door handle. Once it did, it unfolded, grabbed onto the door handle, unlocked it, and opened it. The door swung open and the other three Mogwai, along with Steve, tumbled out into the snowy night.

Once outside, Steve lost track of the bouncing Mogwai. Suddenly, the next thing he knew he was surrounded by Mogwai! They slowly walked closer to him...

"Scared..." muttered Steve.

* * *

><p>Flint woke up a bit later to the sound of muted mechanical yelling.<p>

"Steve?" he whispered, looking around. His monkey wasn't there, yet he could still hear him. Flint sat up and pulled on a jacket. As he dashed out of his room, he glanced at the other Mogwai, but it was too dark for him to realize that there were only four still in the box. He quickly ran down the stairs, following the sound. He reached the front door, pulled it open...

...and found Steve dangling three feet above the porch, all tangled up in Christmas lights. He was flailing around and screaming: "STEVE! SCARED! COLD! SCARED! STEVE! FUR! SCARED! NO ELBOW ROOM! STUCK! STEVE! SCARED!"

"Hold on, Steve, I'll get you down!" exclaimed Flint, grabbing his monkey, trying to calm him down.

A few hours later, Flint finally managed to get Steve out of the lights, but by that time, it was already morning. He quickly brought Steve inside and grabbed the closest blanket.

Half an hour later, Steve finally thawed out, but his thought translator was broken from being frozen for too long. Flint would have to fix it later, but for now, he took it off.

"Poor guy," muttered Flint, rubbing the blanket into Steve's fur, trying to warm him up. It helped that Steve was now sandwiched between Flint and Fran, who had been woken by the noise.

"Look, all I know is that I'm _positive_ that I closed and _locked_ the doors!" exclaimed Tim, who had also been woken up.

"Well, how else did he get to Steve?" asked Flint.

"Flint, we can't point any fingers," said Fran. "Not even at Mayor Shelbourne."

"Mom, he's been threatening him for weeks," said Flint, hugging Steve closer to his chest. "You _know_ he'd love to get his hands on him."

"I know honey, but we don't have any proof," said Fran, standing up and walking over to refill her coffee cup. "We can't even find any footprints leading up to the house."

"Flint," said Tim, "I'm gonna take Steve to Emma's house in the States. I'll drop him off on the way to the fisherman's convention and I'll pick him up on the way home. He'll be here for Christmas. It'll be all right."

Flint looked at Steve. "What do you think?" he asked. "Wanna go see Emma again?"

Steve made an excited monkey noise, and Flint could assume that he meant to say: "Gummy bears!"

* * *

><p>The bell at the Swallow Falls Community College rang, ending the day. As Brent walked out the doors, he turned and saw Flint walking in.<p>

"Hey Flint!" he called, stopping his friend in his tracks. "Hey, is that a Mogwai?" he asked, pointing to the large cardboard box that Flint was carrying.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have Mr. Hanson check it out," said Flint.

"Yeah, good luck with that," said Brent.

"So how are the classes going?" asked Flint.

"Boring," moaned Brent. "But at least I can-" he was cut off by a snowball to the face.

Across the street, five teens were having a snowball fight.

"Ha! Ya missed me, Will!" shouted a girl who was wearing more duct tape than anything else. The boy that threw the snowball and hit Brent was quickly scrambling for another one. Right next to them, two girls were having a to the death snowball fight. The blonde girl threw a snowball at her friend, but she threw it so off course that it flew over the other girl's head and hit a passing car, blinding the driver and almost causing a wreck.

"Ha!" laughed to girl. "Your name may be Amy, but your aim sucks!"

"Watch your back, Kalina!" shouted the blonde girl with the suckish aim.

"It's 'watch your mouth!'" corrected Kalina.

"No, I mean watch your back!"

Kalina turned around in time to see another boy with a snowball in hand sneaking up on her.

Brent laughed as the girl took a snowball to the face and then tackled her attacker.

"Alright, I better go," said Flint, dashing into the building.

* * *

><p>"And then all of a sudden, there were five new ones like this," said Flint, gesturing to the Mogwai in the box.<p>

"Really," muttered Mr. Hanson, the biology teacher at the college.

"Now watch this," said Flint, taking an eye dropper and filling it with water. He then held the dropper over the Mogwai's head and let a single drop of water fall onto the Mogwai.

_POP!_

A single fur ball flew out of the box and landed on the table. A minute later, there were two Mogwai standing there.

"Uh, can I keep one of these here, run some tests on him?" asked Mr. Hanson, struggling to regain his composure.

"I think I can spare one," said Flint, looking at the new Mogwai tapping on the cardboard box, chattering with the other Mogwai in their strange little language.

* * *

><p>By the time Flint left the college, it was already dark out, and it was snowing like crazy! As he walked down Main Street, he walked past Dorry's Tavern. Inside, he heard Joe Towne ranting about something.<p>

Flint looked in through the window and saw Sam closing up, trying to usher Joe out.

"Mr. Towne, guess what, it's time to go home now," said Sam.

"How 'bout one more beer?" slurred Joe, drunk.

"No, it's getting late," said Sam, putting Joe's hat on his head for him.

"One more beer and I'll help ya clean up this mess," he grumbled.

"No. Thanks, though, it'll be okay," she said, pulling him out of his chair and helping him stay sturdy on his feet.

As Sam started to walk him to the door, she said, "It'll be okay."

"No, it will _not_ be okay!" exclaimed Joe, stumbling towards the door. "I brought my plow in for a tune-up and found it loaded with foreign parts! I mean everything: gaskets, pistons, the spark plugs. All of it's foreign." Sam kept nodding as she turned the lights out and shut and locked the door. Joe turned around and saw Flint. "Hey! Flint!"

"Going home?" asked Flint, giving Joe a pat on the shoulder.

He nodded and stumbled to his plow, with Flint and Sam following close behind to make sure he didn't face-plant.

Joe stopped at the door of his plow. "Gremlins," he said. He turned around and faced Flint and Sam. "You gotta- you gotta watch out for foreigners 'cause they plant Gremlins in their machinery. The same Gremlins that brought down our planes in 'The Big One.'"

"The Big One?" asked Sam.

"That's right: World War II. Good old W-W-I-I." He tried to start his plow, but all it did was make an unhealthy rickety sound before cutting off. "They're still shipping them over here. They put them in the cars, the TV. They put them in the radios you stick in your ears. They put them in their watches. Little teeny Gremlins-"

"I don't think it's such a good idea to drive home tonight," said Sam. "Why don't you walk?"

"Y'know, Sammy, I think maybe I'll walk home," said Joe after a moment of thought. "It's a nice night..." He stumbled out of the plow. "G'night."

"Goodnight," chorused Flint and Sam, walking away.

Joe stayed staring at his plow for a moment longer. "Gremlins..."

Flint and Sam walked next to each other; Flint walking Sam home, even though his home was on the other side of town.

After passing a group of Christmas carolers, Flint decided to strike up a conversation.

"That was really good the way you handled Mr. Towne," he said.

"I'm used to it," said Sam. "He's been like that since he lost his job. He's like a lot of people around here. He just wants somebody to listen, especially on the holidays."

"Why's that?" asked Flint.

"It's when a lot of people get really depressed," said Sam.

After a minute of though, Flint said, "That's funny, 'cause y'know I always thought everyone was happy during the holidays, no matter what."

"Well, most people are, but some aren't," said Sam. "While everybody else is opening up their presents, they're opening up their wrists."

Flint's eyes widened and he got a little pale. "Cheery thought," he muttered.

"It's true!" exclaimed Sam. "The suicide rate's always the highest around the holidays."

"Now I'm depressed..." muttered Flint. He looked back up at Sam. "Do you ever get depressed on Christmas?"

"I don't celebrate Christmas," muttered Sam.

"What, are you Hindu or something?" asked Flint.

"No, I just don't like to..."

"Well... what's not to like? I mean, it's a lot of fun..."

"Gosh!" snapped Sam, whipping around on Flint. "Say you hate Washington's Birthday or Thanksgiving and nobody cares, but say you hate Christmas, it makes you feel like you're a leper..." She turned around and stalked off.

Flint stood stunned for a minute before jogging to catch up to her. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed.

"It's okay," said Sam as she came to her house. "I'm sorry. I'm just a little tired and cranky."

"Yeah..." muttered Flint.

"Well, thanks for walking me home, Flint," said Sam.

"No problem," said Flint, shrugging.

"Night," said Sam, turning around to go up the stairs and go inside.

"Night..." muttered Flint. However, after a moments thought, he said, "Sam?" She turned around. "I was wondering if you get any free nights off from Dorry's?"

"Thursdays," said Sam.

"Thursdays, yeah, because I was just wondering if you're not doing anything this Thursday night, then maybe you'd wanna go on a daaaaaa-" The word slurred out of his mouth, but after a quick cough, he was able to spit out out. "D-date w-with me?"

Sam smiled. "I'd love to," she said.

"Really?" exclaimed Flint. "T-that's great, we can..." He took a deep breath to slow his pulse before continuing. "We can talk about it on the phone and y'know... s-square everything away..."

Sam's smile widened. "Good night, Flint," she said before turning around and going inside, leaving Flint out in the snow with high spirits and cold feet.

* * *

><p>Back at the Swallow Falls Community College, Mr. Hanson slowly walked towards the cage containing the Mogwai. He was holding a hypodermic needle.<p>

"Give me your arm, boy," he said, grabbing the Mogwai's arm. "Give me you arm. No, no, this won't hurt. This isn't gonna hurt. Not a big guy like you. Come on." He slowly pushed the needle into the Mogwai's arm. The poor little Mogwai instantly yelped and tried to get away as Mr. Hanson drew blood.

"There we go, that's not so bad," he said. The second he took the needle out, the Mogwai yanked his arm back into the cage. "Just a little blood test, pal. You'll never miss it..."

* * *

><p>Flint sat on his bed, using a screwdriver to tinker with some little device of his. He took a bite of his sandwich and looked up at his pillow, where Gizmo was sitting, reading a comic book on Flint's holo device.<p>

"Having fun?" asked Flint.

"Fun!" exclaimed Gizmo.

"Pretty cool, huh?"

"Cool!"

Flint went back to his tinkering, but looked up a minute later as the five other Mogwai started complaining.

"What is with you guys?" asked Flint. "How 'bout shutting up for a change? I already fed you."

The Mogwai continued yelling at the top of their lungs. Flint slammed his screwdriver down on the bed and looked at his clock. It was 11:36.

"Well, it's not midnight yet," muttered Flint. "Alright." Flint stood up and started to walk towards the door. "Keep an eye on them, Giz. I'll be back in a second."

As soon as Flint walked out the door, the Mogwai all huddled together and started whispering...

Downstairs, Flint opened the refrigerator door and grabbed the first thing he could find, which was a plate of chicken wings. He went back up to his room.

"There you go," he said, putting the plate down in the box. "Now maybe you'll be quiet..."

The Mogwai set on the chicken like a pack of wolves. Gizmo looked over at them and his eyes widened. He quickly scooted closer to Flint for protection.

"You guys are really hungry," muttered Flint. He turned and looked at Gizmo, who had resumed reading his comic. "Hey Giz, you want some?" He quickly reached in and grabbed a piece that still remained intact, nearly having his fingers bitten. "Want some chicken?"

Gizmo took one look at the chicken and shook his head, no.

"Okay," muttered Flint. He turned and tossed the piece of chicken back into the box, where the hungry Mogwai finished it off.

* * *

><p>A half-eaten sandwich sat on a piece of tin foil right in front of the Mogwai's cage.<p>

"Yum yum," muttered the Mogwai, looking up at the wall clock in the biology room. According to the clock, it was 2:20 in the morning. And that sandwich was right in his reach...

"That's it, little buddy," said Mr. Hanson. "Call it a night." He stopped typing on his computer, picked up a bag of chips, and left, leaving the sandwich.

The second the lights went out and the door closed, the Mogwai made his move. He pressed himself against the cage and reached through the bars, grabbing the tin foil and pulling the sandwich into the cage. He immediately devoured it.

And he began the Change.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in Flint's room, the clock still read 11:36. Flint laid down on his bed, the television showing some old black-and-white horror movie. Gizmo even put down his comic to watch it.<p>

"_They're here already!"_ shouted the man in the movie. _"You're next! You're next!"_

Flint and Gizmo never saw the end of the movie. They both fell asleep, listening to the man in the movie.

_You're next!_

_YOU'RE NEXT!_

* * *

><p><em>AN: Another chapter here and gone! Things get really interesting in the next chapter! Muahahahahah! Oh, and NR, please have the DECENCY to at least leave ONE more review! After all, I wrote this story for you!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Storm's over, back to writing!_

* * *

><p><strong>Cloudy with a Chance of Gremlins<strong>

"Mom, can you come up here, please?" shouted Flint as he stared at the gooey green messes on the floor. Gizmo was sitting on Flint's bed, but the other five Mogwai were nowhere to be found.

Fran came up the stairs to Flint's room and gasped at the sight of the things. "What are they?" she asked quietly.

"I guess they're the Mogwai," muttered Flint. He knelt down and poked one of the things that looked like cocoons. It was slimy and cold and felt a lot like a frozen slug. "Except for Gizmo."

Gizmo came out from his hiding place under the covers, looking scared.

"Did you get them wet or something?" asked Fran, bending down to get a closer look.

"No," muttered Flint, shaking his head.

"D-did you feed them after midnight?" asked Fran.

"Well I gave them some chicken," said Flint, shrugging, "but I made sure that it..."

He trailed off as he saw his clock. It still said the same thing. 11:36. Flint quickly walked over to the clock and picked it up. He opened the back and found that all the wires on the inside had been chewed through, stopping the clock.

Flint looked up at Fran, his eyes wide. "Mom... what's going on here?"

* * *

><p>"Yuck..." muttered Brent as he touched the cocoon, getting slime all over his hand. Flint had come over to the college as soon as possible and, to his horror, the one he had left with Mr. Hanson was in the same shape as the other five.<p>

"What did you say this was called?" Brent asked Mr. Hanson. "A... putrid stage?"

"Pupal," said Mr. Hanson as he cut the cage open with pliers to get the cocoon out. "Pupal stage."

"Like a butterfly," muttered Brent.

"Right..." explained Mr. Hanson. "Right, this is a cocoon, and inside... he's going through changes."

"Like my mother!" exclaimed Brent, making a connection. Flint and Mr. Hanson both stared at him for a minute.

"Uh... no, that's different," said Mr. Hanson, regaining his composure. "This is called a metamorphosis," he explained. "It's a change in form and in appearance."

* * *

><p>Back at the Lockwood house, no one was home except for Fran. She was downstairs in the kitchen decorating cookies just because she was bored and had some extra icing. It was getting late, and the rest of the house was still. Or so she thought.<p>

Upstairs in Flint's room, one of the cocoons shifted...

* * *

><p>Brent sat in his class, watching a video that had practically put him to sleep. The only thing that kept him awake was the thought of what was in that cocoon that Mr. Hanson had removed from the cage that morning. The cocoon was sitting in a cardboard box in the back of the very class room that he was sitting in. And little did he know, he was about to find out <em>just<em> what was in that cocoon.

Inside the box, the cocoon shook and burst open, white smoke pouring out of where it had burst. The very same thing was happening in Flint's room. All five cocoons had burst. Gizmo took refuge in a motorcycle helmet as green scaly hands started clawing their way out...

Back in the class room, the box moved. Mr. Hanson looked over at it and saw it shaking. It fell off the desk before he could grab it. Just as the box hit the ground, the bell rang to signal the end of the day. All the students gratefully stood up and rushed the door. All but one.

Brent made a beeline for the back of the room, but he was blocked by Mr. Hanson.

"Mr. Hanson, can I just-"

Mr. Hanson didn't listen. He continued talking, telling everyone to have a good Christmas and to bring him tickets to the super bowl. As he talked he put a hand on Brent's shoulder and practically shoved him out the door.

He quickly pulled the door closed and cautiously crept towards the back of the room, where the box had fallen. On the ground lay the busted cocoon, smoke and a radiant light green light still emitting from the inside. The creature was no where to be found.

Mr. Hanson quickly backed away and ran out into the now empty hall. In fact, the whole school was probably empty by now. He found the nearest phone and called Flint's cell phone.

"Flint... It just hatched!"

Flint, who was just wrapping up his shift at the bank, nearly did a backflip. "I'll be right there!" he exclaimed before accidentally handing Sam his cell phone and running out. Sam looked after him and put his phone in her pocket, confused.

* * *

><p>Back at Flint's house, Gizmo was under siege. He was still hiding in the helmet, trembling, but the creatures had seen him. They slowly closed in on him...<p>

* * *

><p>Mr. Hanson slowly walked back in the classroom. All the lights were out and the movie projector was running backwards...<p>

"Hey there," he said cautiously, trying to locate the creature. "You uh... you remember me?" He slowly went over to the projector and flicked a switch, turning it off and engulfing the room in darkness. "You remember me, don't you? I went and got you a candy bar..." He continued walking towards the front of the class room, trying to lure the creature from it's hiding spot. "I thought you might be hungry. You hungry? You should try one of these," he said, opening the candy bar he had bought from the nearest snack machine.

Suddenly, the movie projector turned back on from behind him. He whipped around, but couldn't see anything from the glare of the projector. Suddenly, something smashed. A table moved and he heard small rapid footsteps running to one of the desks in the front of the room. The creature had probably hid under it.

Mr. Hanson quickly made his way to the desk. "Come here, don't be afraid. There's no reason to be afraid." He quickly got on his hands and knees next to the desk. He didn't stick his face down there though for fear of frightening the creature. "Where did you go...?"

He knelt down in a good position next to the desk. "Where are you? I know you're in there. I know you're under there. C'mon now... You're not still angry about that little blood test, are you?" He lowered the candy bar down by the floor, where the creature would be able to see it. "Come on out, take a bit. Let me see you. I just wanna see you."

He slowly put his hand _under_ the desk. "Try some of this now. I know you've gotta be hungry."

After a second, he felt the creature eating the candy bar. "There, now don't you feel better?" he asked, smiling. His smile suddenly faded and was replaced by a scream as the creature under the desk bit more than just the candy bar...

* * *

><p>Flint quickly ran up the stairs to the now deserted college. He ran through the halls, excited to see what the creature looked like. He finally reached Mr. Hanson's class room, but when he went in there, something was off.<p>

All the lights were out, and the projector was displaying the "technical difficulty" screen.

"Mr. Hanson?" called Flint. He flipped on the light by the door and walked deeper into the classroom, looking towards the back. Not seeing anyone, he came around a few desks and turned...

Flint yelped and stumbled backwards. He quickly covered his mouth in an attempt to not scream. Laying face-down next to the desk in the front of the class room was Mr. Hanson's body. There was a hypodermic needle sticking out of his butt.

Flint stared for a moment, trying to calm his breathing. He then looked up and spotted the phone on the desk. Flint made a beeline for the phone, but as soon as he grabbed it, a green scaly hand came up from behind the desk and sunk it's claws into the back of Flint's hand. Flint yelped and yanked his hand back, feeling blood starting to ooze out of the three cuts. Whatever had cut him had probably cut a vein.

Flint backed as far away as he could before his back hit a desk. The same green, scaly, three-fingered hand reached up onto the desk again. Now that it was moving slower, Flint saw that it had two rings made of yellow scales around each finger, located right on the knuckle. The claws were actually a bit more yellow.

The creature grabbed an apple sitting on the desk. It pulled the fruit in question back behind the desk. A few seconds later, it made a choking sound and flung the apple back up. The hand came up again and grabbed an empty test tube, slowly bringing _that_ back behind the desk. Flint heard the sound of crunching glass and twisting metal. A few seconds later, he decided to slowly move forward.

The metal ventilation grate behind the desk was broken, and Flint could hear the footsteps of the creature disappearing into the ducts.

Flint ran out of the room, looking around. He started looking for a phone, realizing that he left his with Sam, when he started getting dizzy from all the blood he was losing. Realizing that he wouldn't be able to help anybody if he bled to death, he quickly ran into the college clinic, the door marked by a red cross.

Flint pulled the door open and quickly went to the counter. He found a roll of gauze and wrapped it around his hand as tight as he could. Still feeling dizzy, he turned and rested his head against the cabinet above the counter.

Suddenly, the cabinet door right next to Flint's head burst open. It was the creature.

Flint nearly jumped to the other side of the room as the creature started throwing stuff at him. It stopped and jumped down onto the floor, hissed at Flint, and burst through the bottom of the door, running out into the hall.

Flint sat in shock for a minute before running full speed out of the room.

* * *

><p>Fran had just finished decorating the cookies. She was wiping her hands clean of icing when she heard something upstairs.<p>

Upstairs in Flint's room, Gizmo was praying for his life. The creatures had strapped Gizmo to the dart board using a telephone cord. Darts were whizzing dangerously close to Gizmo's head, and all he could do was tremble.

A dart hit the board _right_ next to his right knee, close enough to rip off a bit of fur. A green scaly hand reached up and grabbed Gizmo, taking him off the dart board.

Meanwhile, Fran was still in the kitchen. Alarmed by the noise she was hearing, she slowly reached down and picked up a long thin knife. As she turned to go investigate, she couldn't help but think of her favorite phrase: _"A man always says that a woman's place is in the kitchen. But that's where all the knives are kept."_

Upstairs, Gizmo was roughly thrown into the laundry chute, where he fell to ground level, trapped.

Fran slowly went up the stairs, trying to be quiet. She stopped when she thought she heard someone coming down the stairs from Flint's room, but she figured if anyone came down Flint's stairs then she would see them.

Seeing nothing, Fran slowly continued forward. She reached the stairs that led to Flint's room. Looking up, she saw white smoke. She _didn't_ see five dark figures hiding in the room behind her. As soon as Fran started to climb up the stairs to Flint's room, the five dark figures ran out behind her and made a beeline for the kitchen.

When Fran reached the top of the stairs, she was shocked to see that the cocoons had burst open and the room was empty. Suddenly, the phone rang.

Fran lunged for the phone. "Flint! Are you okay?"

"_Mom, they've hatched!"_ came Flint's voice, sounding frantic. _"Get out of the house!"_

Suddenly, the phone line went dead.

"Mom?" shouted Flint into the phone. "MOM!" Without hesitation, he dropped the phone and ran out of the school as fast as he could.

"Flint, are you there!" exclaimed Fran into the phone. Suddenly, from downstairs, music started playing. Fran looked around before tightening her grip on the knife and climbing down the stairs.

Fran slowly walked up to an old record player that she had gotten for Christmas as a kid. A record was spinning in it, and there were three-fingered hand prints all around it.

Fran quickly turned the record player off and looked around. Suddenly, a glass flew by her head and shattered against the wall. Fran yelped in surprise, but quickly covered her mouth. She slowly crept towards where the glass had been thrown from. As she looked down a hallway, she just missed seeing a strange, big-eared shadow on the wall.

She slowly walked towards the kitchen, knife held tightly. That was when she saw something. She quickly pressed herself against the wall, peeking around the corner at the creature.

The creature was green with regularly placed yellow rings. It had big, bat-like ears, sharp teeth, and red eyes. It's arms were so long that they would be able to easily touch their knees without bending over. It looked much bigger than Gizmo; it was probably at least 25 inches tall. The one Fran had seen was currently sitting next to the refrigerator and the blender, eating the cookies. It had yellow frosting all over it's mouth, nose, and a bit under it's eyes.

Suddenly, one of the creature's ears perked up, and Fran his completely behind the door as the creature looked her way, snarling. It then shrugged and went back to eating.

Fran slowly looked back into the kitchen and saw the creature sticking it's head in the blender, licking the cookie batter off the blade. Fran saw her chance. She quickly darted into the room and turned the blender on before darting out again.

The creature made a horrific squealing noise and green blood sprayed everywhere as the creature's face was ripped to shreds.

Fran hesitantly went back in and turned the blender off...

...only to have a plate thrown at her head. She ducked and grabbed a fold-up table, using it as a shield against the creature with a pile of plates in front of it. She slowly moved forwards and readjusted the knife in her hand. After a few throws, the creature wasn't fast enough on the reload, and Fran got her chance.

"Get out of my kitchen!" she shouted before stabbing the creature in the stomach a couple times. She left the knife in it, leaving the squirming creature pinned to the counter top.

She backed up, breathing hard, when suddenly something hit her from behind. She whipped around and saw another creature standing there. She quickly grabbed a can of anti-bug spray and sprayed the creature right in the face. The creature fell backwards, right into the open microwave.

Fran slammed the microwave door shut and started it. The creature inside started twitching and then... it's head exploded.

The microwave made a _ding_ sound, which Fran would have found funny if not for the severity of the situation. Suddenly, she heard more scurrying and laughter come from the living room.

_Only two left..._ she thought, exhausted. She turned and grabbed another knife... and then grabbed a second knife. She slowly went into the living room.

She scanned the living room and didn't see anything out of the ordinary... except the giant _moving_ stocking hanging by the fireplace.

Fran slowly crept forward and slashed open the stocking with the knives. Instead of a creature falling out... a small wind-up toy fell out.

_So... where are the other two..._

Fran slowly backed up, but when her back hit the Christmas tree, all the tree lights went out. She quickly turned around and saw a pair of glowing red eyes inches away from her face. Fran screamed and the tree toppled over, falling right on her and trapping her. The creature was inches away from her face. It kept trying to bite her, and when she tried to stab it, it just knocked the knives out of her reach.

After a few seconds of struggling, the creature had given Fran a cut on her cheek and another one across her eyebrow. Fran flipped over on her stomach and tried to crawl out, but the creature grabbed her by the throat, choking her.

Suddenly, Flint burst through the door and instantly laid eyes on his mother being strangled. He quickly grabbed the closest thing to him, which happened to be the blade-like piece from his broken bike, still leaning against the wall. Flint picked it up and charged the creature.

"HEY!" he shouted. The creature looked up and Fran ducked. With a single swing, Flint decapitated the creature. It's head flew right into the fireplace and it's body crumpled on the ground.

"Mom, are you okay?" gasped Flint, winded from sprinting home.

Fran nodded and sat up. They both stared in horror at the burning head of the creature.

Suddenly, Flint saw something move out of the corner of his eye. He looked over by the window and saw a creature with a white-haired mohawk on it's green scaly head.

Stripe.

"Mom, it's Stripe," said Flint, and Fran looked over too at Stripe blowing his nose on the curtains.

Flint stood up and lunged at Stripe, but he turned and burst through the window, disappearing into the dark.

"Flint, what was that?" gasped Fran, standing up.

Flint turned and helped his mother up, throwing a blanket around her shoulders. As he led her to the door, he said the only thing that came to his mind that could describe the creatures.

"Gremlins," said Flint. "We've got Gremlins..."

* * *

><p><em>AN: That's all I feel like writing tonight. I like to call that little scene "Gremlins in the Kitchen with Franny." It fits._

_To quote from someone, someplace... UNLEASH HELL!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: Been busy. Not a very long chapter, but hey, I'm saving all the good stuff for later. =)_

* * *

><p><strong>Cloudy with a Chance of Gremlins<strong>

Brent McHale sat at the top of his staircase, fingering the slingshot his parents had bought him for Christmas. On his way home from the school, he had stopped by a drug store and bought a few packs of those little popper fireworks that explode when they hit the ground. Perfect ammunition.

Brent's parents were at the base of the stairs, decorating the Christmas tree. They didn't know about the fireworks, so they were in for a shock when one of the ornaments exploded. The look on their faces caused Brent to burst into laughter, and just as his mother opened her mouth to unleash hell, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it," laughed Mr. McHale, who made his way to the door all tangled up in tinsel. However, his laughter was cut short when he opened the door. Flint stood with an arm wrapped around his mother's shoulders. Fran was wrapped in a blanked, shivering and pale, holding a bloody rag to a large cut on her face. Flint was equally pale, and a deep cut on his hand was bleeding through the bandage wrapped around it.

"Mr. McHale, can we come in?" gasped Flint. With a quick nod, Mr. McHale opened the door all the way and Flint practically carried his mother in. She was shaking so hard that she could barely walk straight. They led Fran over to the couch, and Mrs. McHale ran to get her another blanket.

Brent quickly skidded down the stairs. "Flint, what happened?"

"I found out what was in those cocoons," whispered Flint.

Brent's eyes widened. By the way Flint said that, whatever they were can't be good. "Is that how..." Brent pointed at Flint's hand. The bandage was now soaked all the way through and blood was seeping out around the edge.

Flint nodded gravely. "Keep that slingshot loaded." He quickly walked over to Fran and kissed her on the cheek before heading for the door.

"Flint, be careful!" she exclaimed, nearly in tears.

"And put on a thicker jacket!" exclaimed Mrs. McHale as she laid another blanket across Fran's shoulders.

Flint smiled a bit and rushed through the door, back into the shadowy grips of the icy cold night.

* * *

><p><em>Note to self, never destroy Mom's kitchen...<em> Flint thought as he burst through the door and saw the kitchen, all covered in green Gremlin blood and guts. And the Gremlin pinned to the counter with a knife in it's stomach. Upon seeing that, Flint felt kinda dizzy and nauseous.

That was when he heard it. Gizmo.

"Giz?" called Flint, looking around for where the noise came from. He stumbled towards where the sound came from, and Gizmo, still hidden, started chirping. Flint opened the door to the laundry chute, where he had followed the sound to, and opened it, revealing Gizmo sitting on a few of his dirty shirts.

"Gizmo, did they do this to you?" gasped Flint, picking Gizmo up. The poor guy was shaking, his eyes wide. Flint slowly set him down on a pile of blankets. He started to say something to calm Gizmo down, but he was overcome with a wave of dizziness. He had to grip the table to keep from falling. A look of concern came over Gizmo's face, and he cautiously crawled forward and tugged at the bandages on Flint's hand. Flint looked at him and then took them off himself. The three cuts immediately started to ooze blood. Gizmo, with wide, sympathetic eyes, reached into the laundry chute and pulled out a wash cloth. He laid it on Flint's hand, trying to help soak up the blood.

Flint smiled and rubbed Gizmo on the head. "Wait here for a minute." He quickly made his way into the bathroom, where he found another roll of gauze and rewrapped his hand. It immediately felt a lot better, and he didn't feel quite so dizzy any more. He turned and went back to Gizmo. "We've gotta stop him, Giz."

Gizmo smiled and nodded. Flint quickly glanced around the room and spotted the backpack he used to carry tools sometimes. He grabbed it and turned it upside-down, emptying all the sharp objects that could poke Gizmo. Then, after shoving a bunch of blankets and towels into the bag, he picked Gizmo up and put him in there too. He picked up the backpack and the bike piece, holding it like a sword.

With Gizmo in the bag on his back and his hand not losing blood anymore, Flint felt ultimately better. He could focus on the task at hand now: to stop Stripe from getting to any water. Which would be a huge task, seeing as Swallow Falls was on an _island_!

Flint grabbed a flashlight and a couple of his inventions before running out the door. He never even bothered to put on a thicker jacket, and even though the one he was wearing now was about as thick as his lab coat, he didn't feel the cold. If anything, he was kind of overheated. The snow stung his eyes and face, but he could barely feel it.

"Are you warm enough Gizmo?" Flint asked as he jogged through the knee-deep snow towards the harbor.

"Yes!" Gizmo chirped in response.

_Good,_ thought Flint. _Now let's go catch a Gremlin!_

* * *

><p>After jogging for 15 minutes, Flint slowed to a walk. The snow had stopped, leaving a thick layer of ice on the ground. The ice was slippery, but it also clearly showed Stripe's foot prints. Flint was right. They were heading towards the harbor.<p>

A minute later, they reached a gate that lead to the harbor. It was open.

Flint slowly crept through the gate, taking the backpack off of his shoulder and holding it in his left hand. He held the blade in his right hand, which had started throbbing again. Blood had soaked through the bandages too.

The harbor was eerily still. The water was covered in a thin layer of ice all the way out to the end of the docks.

So where was Stripe?

"Stay here, Giz," whispered Flint, setting the backpack down next to the gate. He didn't need Gizmo getting wet right now.

Flint cautiously crept towards the dock. That was when he heard something moving in the shed behind him. He whipped around, his blade at the ready. Inside the shack, he heard something that sounded like a sneeze. He wasn't ready at all when the door _exploded_ open and Stripe practically flew out. Shocked, Flint stumbled back and slipped on the ice, landing on the dock. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he lay there for a second, trying to catch his breath. That was when Stripe appeared right next to him. Before Flint could react, Stripe raked his razor-sharp claws across Flint's chest, leaving three long gashes.

Flint yelped and curled up on his side, grabbing his chest. That was when he heard Gizmo scream. Looking up, Flint saw Stripe sprinting for the end of the dock, where the ice was thin enough for a Gremlin to break through.

Stumbling to his feet, Flint sprinted down the dock after Stripe. He was a lot faster, but he was hurt, losing blood, and Stripe had gotten a head start.

As they both neared the end of the dock, Flint gained on Stripe. He could almost grab him! And then...

He slipped. His Spray-On shoes had basically _no_ traction, and when he stepped on an especially thick patch of ice, and at the speed he was going, he couldn't stay upright. He went down hard right at the end of the dock, landing right on his chest. He was lucky he didn't impale himself with the blade.

Stripe jumped off the dock.

Flint lunged for him, trying to grab him. He missed and slid a little bit further on the ice.

Both Flint and Stripe fell into the water.

The water was so cold that Flint almost passed out cold. He couldn't see Stripe in the dark water; actually, he couldn't see anything! All he knew was that he was sinking. He didn't know which way was up or down, and he could barely keep his eyes open. His lungs were burning and his body was going numb. He felt the blade slip out of his hand.

Just when he though he was going to die, the light started to bubble, and a green light came from below Flint. The light let him see the bubbles floating past, and he used all of his remaining will power to follow them to the surface.

The second Flint broke the surface, gasping for breath and shaking to the point of convulsions, he grabbed the freezing metal ladder. It was so cold that he actually _screamed_, but he ignored the pain and started climbing. Something from under the water grabbed his ankle, but Flint yanked his leg loose, getting his calf cut by whatever grabbed him in the process.

Just as he got his ankles out of the water, something else grabbed him on his other leg. That was when his frozen mind realized what was happening: Stripe was under water. He was spawning! The things that were grabbing him were...

_Gremlins!_

A jolt of adrenaline shot through Flint's frozen body and he heaved himself up onto the icy dock. Gizmo, still by the gate, made a sound that was a mix between joy at seeing Flint alive and fear about what was spawning in the water below.

Flint shoved himself to his knees, and then his feet. He stumbled, but used that stumble to start running.

"G-G-G-Gizmo!" he shouted. "Z-z-zip up t-t-the b-b-b-bag!" He was still soaking wet, and he still couldn't feel anything below his elbows or knees, let along his fingers! And they needed to make a quick escape. Flint knew that if he looked back, he would see green scaly hands clawing their way onto the dock.

Without a moment's hesitation, Gizmo zipped up the bag from the inside. Flint didn't stop running as he scooped up the bag and took off running through the gate, back towards town. Behind him, he heard laughter.

The invasion had begun.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I know the main character in the movie didn't fall into the water, but I though, what the heck, why not. They ARE on an island after all! And I'm sure that Gremlin from the beginning (Sparky) cut a vein or something, because that bandage was covered in blood! Plus it gave Flint and Gizmo a cute little bonding moment. And the way the Gremlins almost got Flint at this part reminded me of the near ending of Harry Potter 6! Ha ha, now go drink some hot chocolate! I'm sure that made all you readers cold! I can barely feel my hands!_


End file.
